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I told myself that the only way I'd ever write a book about myself, it would be a fantasy or supernatural world book. I never imagined that it would be just something I start on a whim of negative emotions. But I have to find a way to tell my story before its too late and no one can hear me.

Because I know the has to be at least one person that can relate to me and my life. I'm here to rant my story and let someone know, that they are not alone. That the years of pain and tears are not unheard.

Where I live its supposed to be a homey place and it's known for its diversity an acceptance. But from a young age, my mother and I weren't accepted. In the household we live, surrounded by supposed family, we've been shunned and cursed at, hated and pushed away from. We are the black sheeps.

I'm not the most social person, because of these people. They are supposed to be people I can trust and lean on, but instead, on a daily basis, we have to tip toe around them. Because my mother did her best raising me, bless her soul, I'm  little different from them. I know right from wrong, I wouldn't say I'm better than them, I'm just more literary inclined and I try not to take shit from people.

I want to get across that I am grateful for everything I have, a roof over my head- probably not for long- food and my mother and the memories given. I have never been physically abused but that does not mean that emotional, verbal and mental abuse is any less. Any type of abuse is not to be condoned and anyone suffering from it must know firstly that they are valid and loved.

To continue, for years I have suffered under these people's words and actions. I myself am not perfect, but thay does not mean I do not take responsibility for my actions. Any child has made mistakes but eventually, we all grow out of those bad habits and I am fortunate to have the guidance to grow out of them. These days, at almost an adult, I am blaimed for taking something worth five dollars and threatened to be kicked out. If my mother and I try to provide facts and deny these accusations, because why would we steal something, we are always told the same thing- 'Get out the House, get out my house!'

Then people I live with, I do not even consider to be family anymore. Family is supposed to give you advice and help you when you're down, not kick you. Family is supposed to trust your judgment and see that you have changed. Family is supposed to give you a chance. Family is supposed to give you hope and tell you to pursue your writing career, not laugh and make fun of it. Saying that I think I'm better than them. My real family, I have made because if there is one thing I've learned from Supernatural, is that 'family don't end in blood'. I have incredible patience but once I see my mother cry, that's where the patience ends.

My mother is the strongest and most incredible woman in my life. Without her, I don't where I'd be in life. She has sacrificed and has continued to for me but has to fight every week to sleep on the floor beside me or just to eat in peace. If she could have a bed to sleep on properly, I'd trade anything for that. But, apparently, my cousin, who is responsible for the strife we suffer, deserves that bed. However, doesn't use it.

My supposed cousin. Only ten years old, but since she could talk has been the bane of our existence. You may say that she's a child and I'm in the wrong, but you do not live with me. Her parent, my supposed Aunt, has not raised her. My supposed Aunt doesn't even pay her child any attention. And my supposed cousin has stolen almost a thousand dollars in a week, but a missing carton of milk, that no doubt she drank, is reason for my supposed uncle to boot us out the house.

On top of that, my mother has not been able to find a job since the company she worked at fired the people that worked there without notice.  Now for three years they've been waiting for compensation and struggling to maintain their livelihoods. We are, so put it blankly, broke and in debt. If we are kicked out, we have no where to go.

I do not know if by this week I'll be able to continue what I've started here. But, I at least wanted others to know. I'm not looking for pity or anything, I'm just getting it out there that  I understand what those who go through the same daily emotional and mental struggle. I am with you and wish I could tell you it gets better, but I don't even know anymore. Most of these days I just sit and ask the same question.

Why us?

  Why do people deserve this? What have we done tk even singled out and hated. To be the odd bods. Are we bad people? What did we do? Why is God just not doing anything to help? Why are they laughing while we get threatened to leave? Why are watched every second of the day, anything we eat, anything we do, is measured constantly. Why is our life so bad? Why aren't we good enough? Is it because we don't want to be like you? Because we just want a better life for ourselves than living at rock bottom with you? Why is that so bad? To want a better life? A happier life? Is it wrong to work for that, to wish for that?

Why?

Should we just agree to your every whim? Let you walk over us?